


The Psychology of a Teenage Boy

by hereiamramblingagain



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop, Angst, Multi, Suicide, im sorry this is sad and depressing and confusing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 23:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereiamramblingagain/pseuds/hereiamramblingagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane's thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Psychology of a Teenage Boy

You often wondered what the hell you saw in him. Wondered why the hell Dirk put up with him every single day.

Actually you knew exactly why.

Dirk Strider was in love. There was no denying it. Every day you watched him walk into that coffee shop and jump over the counter right next to the little gate that you were supposed to use, tie an apron on with a unnamed knot in the back so perfect, pirates wept as they tried to tie their shoes, make the most decadent caramelly, chocolaty, whipped creamiest coffee that no one could afford, and write Jake’s name on it in big perfect block letters. You let him tie your apron on in a big bow, and he would straighten your collar, kiss your cheek, and take the broom from you, sweeping the café faster than you could ever hope to. And just as he sweeps the last pile out the back door, there’s the familiar knock on the front door, light and quick and just enough to rattle the bell at the top. Every day you leaned precariously over the counter to unlock the door for him and he would sweep in with the box of fresh grounds, already smelling like coffee and is morning douse of manly aftershave. Dirk would lean over the box, peck him on the lips and heft it into his arms, skillfully kicking the gate open and the door to the kitchen shut.

And Jake would stand there, leaning on the counter, and you could smell him and see him and take in every detail as he slurped down his coffee, getting whipped cream on his nose and chocolate syrup on the edges of his mouth. Dirk would saunter back out and you could hear the familiar buzz of the machines that needed spotting, but you were always too busy watching them out of the corner of your eye. Watching Dirk kiss the mess away and places where it wasn’t, all the way down to his mouth, and they would kiss deeply, and you could hear it and it made your stomach churn; not because of the wet noises but the way you could see how much Dirk was into it and how much Jake wasn’t. And you would turn completely away as they pulled apart, knowing Dirk would swat away the spit string and wipe it on Jake’s shirt, and Jake would giggle convincingly, but half heartedly, and take his place at the table in the corner with his laptop and terrible movies.

You wish he wouldn’t sit alone back there. There were plenty of empty tables and chairs strewn around where he could sit much more comfortably, but he adamantly sat in the back alone.

You guess its kinda okay. It keeps Dirk away from him. Even though that’s a terrible thing to think. But you think it anyways. An oven dings and the first batch of scones are out, and you spend ten minutes transferring them into perfect formation on the display tray.

By the time you’ve finished that there’s at least three more trays of finished pastries to plate, and half way through the second Roxy wanders in like she does every other day. It’s a rare occasion when she isn’t already a little bit tipsy by ten thirty.

She’ll grin lazily at you, wink at Dirk and give a big wave to Jake, and plop down in her favorite chair with her ipod and the black coffee you hand her. Customers begin to straggle in twenty minutes later, and by noon they come in full force.

The work is mindless but enjoyable, and you can easily tune out the laughing kids and chatting businessmen as you hand out coffees and teas to those who order. You slip into your own thoughts, and you’re right back to wondering what you see in Jake.

It’s not like he’s a statue of a Greek hero in disguise or anything. You actually wouldn’t be surprised. Dirk is lean and lanky and toned, but Jake is big and built. You mean built. You remember when he was seventeen and he was still kind of short and skinny and boney. He was still really attractive but that’s beside the point. Three years later and he’s twenty and tall and ripped with beautiful tan skin and green eyes and the messy black hair and the muscles the god damn muscles, what you wouldn’t give to have him lift you and spin you and carry you because he’s probably the only person you know that would be strong enough to lift all three hundred something pounds of you.

There’s a click of the break sign hitting the counter, and you snap to attention, and Dirk ruffles your hair and grabs a bagel and jumps the counter to go sit with Jake, leaving you to your thoughts, waving at Roxy absentmindedly as she leaves for class. You grab the tea you have sitting under the counter and head for the kitchen, where its loud and you can drink your tea in the silence of boiling water and the buzz of ovens and coffee grinders.

You drain your tea in a few sips and watch as the sun slowly begins to make its way to shine in the window on the slanted ceiling.

You lose yourself in thoughts of Jake again. Except now you think about how terrible it is that he’s led Dirk on so far that he just can’t escape it. It probably was mindless and fun at the beginning when they were seniors and they held hands in the hallways and broke girls hearts and kissed under the mistletoe and on New Years and on Valentine’s day and every day at the café and every night in their apartment and the thought of them sharing a room made you sick and you drop your cup in the sink, biting your lip and trying not to cry.

You can picture them snuggled close together in the middle of that king sized bed and by morning Jake’s falling off the edge, turned away from Dirk and Dirk is curled up in that little protective ball, one hand desperately reaching for Jake’s only to find that when he wakes up he’s gone. You breathe deeply and pull a tray out of an oven and carry it out to plate it, Dirk already handing out lattes and the like to the first batch of morning class students. Roxy is among them and she takes another hard black coffee, the wear of the day and the guys in her class showing its toll.

You take a moment to think about Roxy. She was pretty and fairly popular, and brilliant beyond all get out. She was majoring in some fancy computer engineering, a class that douchebag male students seemed to think boys only territory. You knew they had all tried to hit on her at the beginning, and each had turned to being an ass to her after she turned them all down. You were the only one who knew she only had eyes for Dirk, and you had crossed your heart and sworn to take that to the grave.

It often felt that you were the only one who knew things. Everyone came to you to tell, and expected you to keep your mouth shut. And you did, you never uttered a word, but it killed you not to say things and not to help. You knew Roxy had a drinking problem and Dirk was probably the only one that could get her to stop but telling him would lead him to deduce her feelings and she would rather die than him find out. You knew Dirk was scared to death of loosing Jake and clung to the boy with every waking second he had because he didn’t know what he would do without him, because he was so in love with every little bit of him it hurt and he took those long showers because he cried because he knew Jake was losing interest and it hurt him so much. You knew Jake was miserable and though he never said it you could tell he cared enough for Dirk’s feelings not to shatter his heart and leave him. You knew Jake had no idea what to do or what he wanted and the only way for him to keep Dirk at all was to let him have his way, gushy and romantic and hurting them both.

Roxy had a cutting problem. Dirk had attempted suicide years ago. Jake was miserable and scared. And here you were, knowing everything and doing nothing. You wanted to scream at them and cry and kick and fight and make everyone happy but you couldn’t there was no way that any of this could ever work and it tore you apart and you cried yourself to sleep every night. You thought about quitting and leaving and killing yourself because none of them needed you that much, no one had eyes for Jane Crocker. They could sort out their shit without you and one day find the people they would be happy with and you would rest in peace.

That bastard Jake would end it with Dirk and Dirk would go to Roxy and they would be so happy as you knew they would be and Jake would look around and wonder who he could get his affection from now and maybe he’d remember you.

He’d remember the girl he told his problems to like a diary.

And maybe one day he’d wonder where she went.

And maybe miss her a little bit.

He’d remember her name and her eyes and her hair and her tired smile and the way she would wave at him when he left at night and the way she said his name.

The way she only ever laughed whole heartedly with him. The way her eyes lit up around him, the way she would throw herself over the counter each morning to open the door.

He’d stand there and remember her. And miss her for a bit. His heart might tighten and he would frown, leaving lines in his flawless face.

Maybe he’d bring flowers to her grave. He’d bring a chair and stare at her name and the date and see she only lived to twenty. He’d whisper to her softly about Dirk and Roxy and the coffee shop and school, and maybe shed a tear. And when the sun went down he’d leave, with a final ‘I’m sorry.’

Maybe he’d fall in love with her if she were dead.

It was really her only hope.

And she didn’t even know what the hell she saw in him.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry I guess.
> 
> No I won't write more sorry dont even ask.


End file.
